Somewhere Between a Pause and a Comeback

The one piece of advice I give anyone navigating a sabbatical, a pause, or a hard-to-explain in-between: Have a line. Here’s why.

Here’s me, taking a moment in Paris to contemplate my being between what was and what’s next. Thank you to my dear friend, Alix, for capturing this quiet pause!

(🎧 Prefer to listen? Here’s the audio version.)

After working all my life and exiting the first company I built just a few months before my 40th birthday, I took a sabbatical (which I wrote about here).

My first goal was to recover from the bone-deep burnout I was feeling. I thought I could check this off with about three months of rest. And in 3, 2, 1… wow…

How gravely naive I was.

Turns out, burnout recovery doesn’t unfold in a neat, organized fashion—or on a timeline that makes any real sense within the logic of your life. That was a bummer to learn. 😂

Second goal: Follow the fun, with no attachment to what I “should” do, or what outcome(s) might follow.

And my third goal: to find a new dream.

Everyone has dreams.

My first two professional dreams were crystal clear:
– Become a professional ballerina (check).
– Build a company I dreamt up and scale it enough to exit (check, check!).

And then… emptiness.

I struggled to decide what on earth my next dream could be – and wondered if attaching the “dream” request to whatever I did next professionally was adding to much pressure. Those were all questions I had to explore in the stillness of my meditation practice. Lots came up, lots still being sorted, with lots currently in development that I’m keeping quiet for the moment. So instead, I’ll pivot to something from my sabbatical that I can share publicly.

Since writing about my professional pause, the question I get asked most is, “Do you have any advice for someone taking one?”

And I do. Just one to start:
Have a line.

Let me add that I am keenly aware that not everyone gets a formal sabbatical -- and I’m conscious to the absolute gift it is to have one, despite the challenges that may arise if you’re taking one without a specific project-based focus.

But while many don’t take a sabbatical or a professional pause of any kind, most of us, at some point, find ourselves standing in the fog between what was and what’s next—even if it’s just for a few days, a few weeks, or between the blur of working and caregiving.

When I told people I was taking a sabbatical, their immediate follow-up was:
“Great! What are you going to do next?”

That question sent my inner monologue spiraling: Didn’t I just tell you I’m taking time off and not focusing on what I want to do next? And you want me to tell you what I’m doing next?? I don’t even know!

I truly didn’t know. And I was working really hard to quiet the angst and be okay with the not knowing.

Eventually, I learned that this question wasn’t really about me. It was about them—their fears, their projections, their discomfort with uncertainty. Their imagining for themselves what it would feel like to them to not be producing something.

So here’s the best advice I now give to anyone about to take a sabbatical, retire, or someone who just needs a break (even 5 minutes!) and wishes to exit a moment with grace and kindness:

Have a line.

And have it ready in your mind ahead of time.

Before I explain, let me just say:
Every single person I’ve ever shared this with responds the same way:
“That’s really good. But I don’t think I’ll need it. I already know what I’m going to say—I’m just going to tell people, ‘I’m taking time off.’”

And every single one comes back later to tell me: “Okay… you were right.” 😂

Because here’s the truth: Having a line isn’t about you. It’s about helping other people manage the discomfort they feel in reaction to your pause or exit. (And honestly, most of them have that reaction unconsciously!)

So, I needed a line.

Let me explain.

I’m American and a proud New Yorker at that. I have a big network of brilliant, working people. Which I came to learn that in answer to that ever-present question of, “so, what do you do?” the answer, “I’m taking a break” was not cutting it—except with the rare few who had done it themselves.

That “So … what do you do?” question at events? Expected.
I wasn’t prepared for the follow-up: “Good for you. So, what do you think you’ll do next? Or, what do you want to do?”

That one caught me.

That’s when I realized: I needed a line – for the second question.

Before I had my line, I would stand there and watch an assortment of words tumble out of my mouth like a waterfall. Had someone had the time and cared, they could have collected all of those fragments of the English language in the bottom of the word-river and perhaps pieced together some sort of yellow-brick-road map I so desperately wanted during that time. But they didn’t, and I couldn’t.

While I could recognize that I myself can be messy in my life, those cocktail hour moments or quick family catch-ups weren’t always the place to wade through my existential river. I needed a second line – something that followed “I’m taking a break” and could float in and out of a conversation like a social life-raft, no more raging waterfall of disconnected thoughts.

Eventually, I landed on one. When people gave me their inevitable follow-up question of “but what do you want to do?” to my previous response of “I’m taking a break.” I simply followed up with, “I’m sampling from the buffet of life.”

Short. Simple. True.
It let me say: I’m doing whatever I want. And it doesn’t have to make sense to you – or me.

Walking near my home in downtown NYC in the Fall. I was following no clear plan but instead, took the time to chase down some things that peaked my curiosity.

It helped me explain the otherwise-random things I did—like sitting at a jeweler’s bench one day to melt metal and make myself a ring, taking a shoemaking class just to satisfy my curiosity, and making a google sheet of all of the museums in NYC I had never been to … only to explore none of them.

I learned that a good strong line gives your conversation partner somewhere to go next.

If they’re curious, it opens the door.
If they’re satisfied, it lets everyone pivot and move on.

I also learned that having a line ready to go can help save you from having to defend, explain, or justify your maybe-not-yet-clear-to-you moment. Finding a line doesn’t mean feeling certain. It just buys you space.

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If you’re finding yourself without an answer currently to “what do you do?” or are having a hard time finding ways to stay grounded right now when you gather, perhaps having a pre-determined line can help! Maybe try one of these on for size and adjust to put them into your own words to deploy as needed:

In the midst of a professional segue? Try these:

1. I’m exploring some new paths and enjoying the view.

2. I’m resting and seeing what inspiration might find me.

3. I’m in a season of stillness, and I’m not rushing the next step.

4. I’m letting this chapter unfold without rushing to write the next one.

5. I’m rebuilding from the inside out—and my next steps don’t feel ready to be public just yet. ;)

Trying to protect your peace when the world feels loud? Try these:

1. I’m keeping an eye on everything and trying to stay grounded in joy—what’s something bringing you joy lately?

2. I’m limiting the noise so I can hear myself think—want to chat about anything not in the news?

3. I’m taking in the world slowly, and also carving out space for laughter and lightness—got any good stories for me?

4. I care deeply and I’m pacing myself—what’s something small and good in your life right now?

5. I’m staying informed and I’m not debating today. Let’s talk about something we both love!

I don’t know if any of these help or resonate for any of you — or if you already know this tool! It certainly took me some time to learn it.

Want me to tailor a something to your world? Drop a note in the comments —I’ve got plenty.

When you’re between paths and standing somewhere in the unknown, a good line isn’t just a tool—it can be a social lifeline.
It helps you protect your peace without inviting interrogation.

Sure, a line is a kind of tagline.
But it’s also a boundary.
One you choose.
One that keeps you grounded— and makes space for the version of you still coming into focus.

Here’s me in Cognac, France circa 2016 at the distillery where I produced Brenne Whisky. This was taken (by Sarah Baumberger) the same week where I welcomed my future business partners who would eventually create Samson & Surrey — the company I folded Brenne into prior to our exit to Heaven Hill Distilleries. I feel like this version of me then is aligned with the me of today — opening a door with grounded optimism and excitement to see how this next chapter unfolds.

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💬 Your Turn

Think about a moment this summer where you might find it harder to carve out a little time for yourself.
Maybe it’s a family trip or just having the kids home.

Now imagine hitting a wall—emotionally, energetically, socially—and needing a graceful exit.

What’s your line?

What can you say that’s kind, firm, loving, and final? (“I’m taking a nap” comes to mind! LOL)

Drop it in the comments—or just leave an emoji that captures where you are right now. 🧭✨

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And just a note—because I learned this the hard way:
Don’t wait until the burnout is bone-deep to rest.
You deserve space before the breakdown.
You can have a line before you’re at your limit.
You can use it to carve room in the everyday, not just in life’s bigger moments.

And if you forget everything else—just remember:
A good line doesn’t need to be clever.
It just needs to be honest, kind, and yours.

📧 You never know who might need this.
Feel free to forward it to someone quietly navigating their own in-between.

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And here’s a little mantra I wrote that I’ve been referencing these past couple of weeks:

Future choices are not mine to make right now. I can only prepare for readiness.

And a little joyful song to get you moving!